Pauline sat in silence for a few moments, and then an odd light came into her eyes, and she smote her forehead with a pretty little gesture.
“Ciel! how stupid of me!” she exclaimed. “Strange, is it not, that ideas the most obvious never seem to strike one at the time they should.”
“And what,” smiled Wilfrid, “is the obvious idea that you have overlooked?”
“That I need not have taken the trouble to imprison you when a sentence, one short sentence, would extinguish in you all desire for this duel.”
She spoke with a confidence such as half-disposed Wilfrid to believe her statement true. But though pressed as to her meaning, she refused just then to satisfy his curiosity.
“I will explain in the morning. You have had gloom enough for one day. Let me not act the part of a kill-joy to-night.”
The dinner being over, Pauline sent for Dr. Beauvais,—her steward, as well as physician—who, on entering, seemed surprised at beholding the two on friendly terms again.
“Now mind, sir,” said Pauline to Wilfrid, with an air of mock command, “no duelling with Dr. Beauvais, for I hear that you threatened him with one this morning.”
“Dr. Beauvais, as a loyal servant of the Baroness, is a man for whom I have the highest respect.”